


Assemble Team ICHR

by Flexor



Series: The Old Hounds [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Experienced hunters, Plot spoilers RWBY Season 3, Snake Faunus, Timeline Season 3 Episode 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Kingdom of Vale going to hell in a handbasket, semi-retired hunter team ICHR puts itself back into action. Time to show these kids how a seasoned team of hunters takes care of business.</p><p>This story is not marked "Mature" for nothing, but I don't feel like including a whole list of tags about who does what to whom. Reader discretion advised. I use "Mature" in the classical sense, as in grown-up and unlikely to be shaken by experiences outside one's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assemble Team ICHR

**Author's Note:**

> One of the things we haven't seen a lot of this season is experienced hunters. We have Winter and Qrow, but all the others stay in the background. Also, you haven't lived in the RWBY fanficdom until you have created a team of your own. So. Introducing Team ICHR, pronounced Ichor, red, the colour of blood and entrails.
> 
> Inevitably, the team will meet more of the characters we all know and love, and no doubt get to know and love them as much as we do. Or maybe not.

Igor Green stopped in front of the door, put down the wooden briefcase in his hand, straightened his bowler hat and tie, then knocked. After a few moments, it opened, and Crystal Lear looked at him. She was wearing only a tank top and shorts. Time was when Crystal would have answered her door only when fully suited up and armed to the teeth, but times had been gentle up to fairly recently.

"I had a feeling you might show up. Hold on. Got some business to take care of."

As Igor waited, a slender young man came up, doing up his belt buckle. Crystal grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him into the door, almost lifting him off his feet. She pushed her well-muscled body up against him, kissed him, looked into his eyes.

"This may well have been my last time in this world," she said. "Glad it was you."

"Uhh... thanks," said the young man, eyeing Igor. "See you later."

He walked away. Igor looked at his back, then at Crystal.

"What do you want with this boy? He looks like zlotnik."

"He's big where it counts." Crystal shrugged. " _What_? Just enjoying some home comforts before we all die." She walked over to a cupboard and pulled out her battle suit. Reinforced leather trousers. Supple leather shirt. Leather jacket with metal plates, fitted to her ample form. She turned to Igor.

"I take it that little bitch is also lurking somewhere?"

A female voice laughed. "What's the matter Crystal? Afraid I'm going to steal your boyfriend again?"

Crystal sighed and turned round. Sitting cross-legged on her dining table was a thin black woman. Her skin was black. Her hair was black. Her clothes were black, as were the handles of the knives at her belt. The only things that were not black were her yellow eyes with slitted pupils, and her bright white teeth with sharp pointed fangs like needles.

"The phrase you're looking for, Rosalinde, is _picking up my discards_."

There was a blur of motion, and then Rosalinde stood behind Crystal, cheeks together. One hand was under Crystal's heavy breast.

"Oh Crystal sugar. You _know_ I only do that because there's only one girl in the world that's good enough for you." Her thin forked tongue slithered out across Crystal's cheek.

Crystal grabbed Rosalinde's arm, and Rosalinde flew up, slammed into the ceiling and stayed there, Crystal holding her arm like the string of a balloon.

"I'd rather suck face with a dead Beowolf," said Crystal.

Igor growled. "You two stop fawning over each other. We still have to pick up Hades."

Crystal pulled on Rosalinde's arm so her head pointed down, then let go. Rosalinde dropped like a stone, landed on her hands, rolled over and to her feet. Crystal opened a gun locker and pulled out her weapon, a heavy machine gun connected to a backpack by a loading band. With practiced moves, Crystal connected the ammo feed, unsnapped the lock, pulled the bolt, clicked on the safety, and snapped the gun to the backpack. Meanwhile, Igor opened his briefcase, and assembled a short, vicious looking shotgun to which he attached a broad, sharp bayonet. He put his weapon on its shoulder strap underneath his large overcoat. Igor looked at Rosalinde and Crystal.

"Let's go."

 

Hades lived in a part of Vale that used to be rough, until developers came in, evicted all the riffraff and turned the place into a sleeping suburbs for the various companies in Vale Proper. Hades had resisted eviction, and had a rather nice apartment on the top floor of a medium sized flat. They walked in and rang his bell, but nobody answered. Igor turned to a balding old man who was trimming the potted roses in front of his window.

"Good morning Sir. Have you seen Mr. Tinker lately? We are friends of his."

"Mr. Tinker? I saw him yesterday morning. He left in the company of a rather large man." The old man rubbed his forehead. "I saw him enter a car. It was a grey car, with some writing on the side, let me think. Ah. 'The Penitentiary', that's what it was."

"Oh dear," said Crystal. "Hell boy has had himself arrested?"

"Bound to happen at some point," said Rosalinde. "With his lifestyle."

"Thank you Sir," said Igor. He nodded his head in the direction of the door, and the three of them left.

 

"Good morning, Sir," said Igor, walking up to a reception desk. Every city had places like this. Seemingly normal, indistinguishable from decent office buildings, where things went on that neither Sun nor Moon would want to shine light upon. Little dens of intense suffering and pain, torture, depravity, perversion.

The receptionist, a large burly man with slightly too much flesh round the waist, looked Igor over once.

"How can I help you," said the man, obviously implying that the best kind of help would be to assist Igor and his ladies out of the door again, perhaps at some speed.

"We are looking for a friend of ours, and we have been told that he may be here."

The receptionist shook his head. "Nobody has friends in here."

"His name is..."

"I don't care what his name is," said the receptionist. "He's not here."

Igor took a deep breath. He didn't have time for this.

"Roz..."

"On it Boss," said Rosalinde. Her slender form blurred, and she leapt over the reception desk, into the corridor behind.

The receptionist shouted and reached for an alarm button under his desk. Crystal grabbed his wrist. Igor opened his overcoat, showing his shotgun.

"Don't," said Crystal. "Just don't."

 

Rosalinde slithered through the corridors of the building, smelling the air with her tongue, listening carefully. From behind various doors came screams of pain, shouts, grunts. Hades would be in the worst of it. The doors had peepholes in them, facing in, so that someone could see what was going on inside before entering. The business inside was delicate, and interruptions at the wrong moment could ruin a whole day's work. Finally, Rosalinde looked into one of the doors to find what she was looking for. She opened the door quietly and slipped inside. What she found was an image to haunt someone's worst nightmares. The room was mostly dark, except for a bright spot in the middle. A man was hanging, bound and gagged, almost completely naked, with his arms tied behind his back. A large man was standing behind him with a long bullwhip. Small drops of blood were falling from the victim's body onto a plastic sheet on the floor.

Rosalinde came forward. The man saw her and lowered his whip.

"Who the hell are you?" He advanced on Rosalinde, raising his whip. "Get out!"

Rosalinde bared her fangs and leapt forward in a flying kick that connected with the man's chest and sent him flying back into the wall. Rosalinde raised her hands like claws and hissed at the man. Then she walked towards the bound victim and turned him round facing her, so she could talk to him and keep an eye on the torturer at the same time.

"Oh _sweetie_!" Rosalinde ran her fingers over Hades' cheek. "Is the bad man hurting you? Do you want Auntie Rosalinde to kill him for you?" Rosalinde grinned. "Just shake your head for _Yes_."

Hades rolled his eyes, which was pretty much the only way he could express himself. Rosalinde reached round his head and took off the gag.

"Boss man wants you, Hades. It's important."

Hades grimaced, getting his jaw muscles back in working condition.

"I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

"Oh ha ha. Seriously though, we need you. Now."

The torturer had got to his feet, and walked up.

"You _know_ this woman, Harry?"

"Yeah. Teammate from way back. Help me down, please?" Hades looked at Rosalinde. "This can take some time."

"We don't _have_ time," said Rosalinde.

Hades looked round, smiled. "Sorry, Vincent," he said. Rosalinde took a quick step back as Hades' skin started to glow, first a dull red, then a bright yellow, then a blinding white. Smoke rose up as the ropes that bound him were turned to ashes. Hades fell to the ground, landing on his hands and feet.

"I'll put that on the bill," said Vincent.

Hades got to his feet, nodded. "My clothes are in the next room. Let's go."

"Hey _hey_!" said Vincent.

"What?"

"Come here, you." Vincent wrapped his arms round Hades and kissed him, running his hands over his body as Hades' aura made the cuts and lashes fade away.

They stood like that for a few moments, until Rosalinde tapped her finger on her wrist. She didn't actually wear a watch, but the idea was clear. Hades gave Vincent a last fond look, then walked with Rosalinde into the next room and got dressed in loose fitting gray trousers, a red shirt bearing a flame symbol on the chest, and a long black overcoat. He pulled on his boots, picked up an ornately carved wooden staff, and followed Rosalinde downn the corridors to where Igor and Crystal were waiting.

Igor gave him a quick once-over, then grunted. "Now, we go."

 

"Right Green," said Hades. "What is so important that you have to interrupt my spa weekend?"

"We are going to Beacon Academy," said Igor. "There is a little commotion there."

Igor handed his scroll to Hades, and tapped 'Play'. Hades looked with slowly widening eyes. He handed the scroll back to Igor.

"Bloody hell."

"Yep," said Crystal. "That about sums it up."

Igor looked ahead, with a grim look in his eyes. "So I am thinking it would be opportune to see what my old friend Professor Ozpin and his friends are doing."

"Undoubtedly, running round like headless chickens," said Hades.

Igor shook his head. "No no. Beacon is _organised_ now. They have computers, and the Cross Continental Transmit System."

"Oh. That means that not only are _they_ running round like headless chickens, but so are their friends overseas?"

"Precisely."

"How are we getting there?"

"Vale is evacuating its most important citizens," said Igor. "Let's see if the pilots want to evacuate people _in_ as well."

Rosalinde grinned. "This is going to be _fun_!"

"Go team ICHR," said Crystal.

* * *

 

They were sitting in the almost empty hold of a bullhead aircraft, on its way to Beacon Academy and the Colosseum where people were still huddled under the force field while giant Nevermore birds tried to break in.

The pilot's phlegmatic voice came over the intercom. "Slight turbulence ahead. Please fasten your seatbelts."

The aircraft lurched sharply to one side, and its guns spoke. Out of the windows, they could see one of the massive black birds head for them, run right into the concentrated plasma beam fire of their aircraft, and plummet to the ground screaming.

"Nice shooting," said Crystal.

"Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen." The pilot's voice sounded unshakably calm. "We have to make a small detour to Beacon to take on board a fresh supply of lemon soaked paper napkins for your comfort and hygiene. We apologise for the inconvenience and the delay to your journey today."

Hades looked out of the window. An entire swarm of Nevermores had descended on the Amity Colosseum with less than amicable intentions. So far, the force fields held, and the engines kept working.

"Hope most of them got out," said Crystal. "That thing looks like it's going down."

"Now we hope that it does so in a controlled manner," said Igor. "Beacon coming up."

The pilot's voice sounded once more. "All the landing platforms are occupied. Can you guys get out without me landing?"

"Piece of cake," said Crystal. "Group hug!"

Crystal held out her arms. Hades jumped onto her back, Igor and Rosalinde held both her arms. The door opened, and with a good run-up, they leapt out, holding on to Crystal. They floated slowly to the ground. Rosalinde pointed at a group of people.

"Have they changed the guards' uniforms? Who are they?"

"White Fang," said Igor. "Possibly the New White Fang."

"They seem upset about something," said Hades.

"They are in the way," said Igor, pulling out his shotgun. "Team ICHR, to the tower. If anyone tries to stop us, kill them."

 

Crystal pulled out her machine gun. Hades' staff blazed with a deadly orange light. Rosalinde disappeared into the shadows. Igor raised his shotgun and extended the blade.

"Team ICHR, _Move_ _out_!"


End file.
